Not Alone Never Alone
by Raynedark
Summary: Rating for language. Angst, depression, grief, character death. One shot, first try Gravitation.


Don't own Gravitation!

Also, just a note. This is written after reading only the first two books in the series, because I just picked it up, thank you Apocalypse of the Broom Closet! Right, so I'm not that far into the story, I don't know the characters well, but I think that Yuki and Shuichi's relationship is a beautiful thing. I was just inspired so bear with me. 

Not Alone. Never Alone.

"YUKI!" His eyes snapped open to the dark around him. He was drenched in a cold sweat. "Who's there?" he asked to his empty home. The empty home made no reply. Calling back the sound of his name he identified the voice as Shuichi's. He hadn't seen the kid around in a while. That usually meant he was wrapped up in music or sick. 

Yuki pulled the sheets tighter around him as a cold feeling set into his body and his heart rate sped. Shivering, the hair on the back of his neck pricked up. Something was wrong. Very wrong. No, nothing was wrong. There was nothing wrong. Everything was fine. Or at least whatever it was could wait till morning. He lay down again and breathed deeply. His heart was still rampaging. The cold was still throbbing through him. 

Crawling out of the covers he crossed the room to the thermostat. It was set to 60 he moved it up ten. Maybe that would help get rid of the cold. The heaters clicked and buzzed on as he curled into the sheets once more. He fell into a half sleep listening to the house whir as the heat pumped into the rooms. 

Images flashed through his mind. Blood, everywhere. Dark hair matted with it. Pools of it on a pine floor. It was seeping into the cracks around a shadowed figure. The pool near the person's mouth bubbled as he muttered a name. The voice was filled with heartbreak and the utmost sorrow. "Yuki." The name was harsh and cold. 

His eyes fluttered open again to the dark and buzzing room. The light on the thermostat went of signifying it was up to temp. He was still freezing and his hair was still bristling. Recalling the images of gore that had just passed through his mind, he tried to define the dying figure. 

Sitting up in bed once more he concentrated on the dark space in his cupped hands. He saw the body in the cup of his hands. Slowly, he tried to lift the haze from it. It was a heavy veil, and it went painstakingly deliberately. The first thing to come to focus was a pair of bare feet. Then legs in pinstriped, loose, flannel pants. Then a stomach slightly exposed, an arm draped over the torso, and shoulders. The person was wearing light blue cotton tank top nightshirt. 

The last part was the hardest to focus on. Yuki felt as if he didn't even want to reveal the identity of the mysterious dead, although he should have already known from the body he'd loved so well. The haze over the head and outstretched arm was the heaviest to lift. It felt like a thousand grief's weight and gritted on his mind like metal on metal. 

Laboriously, he shoved back the mist. A youthful chin came to view. Lips were pale and slightly parted, moving. They toiled to speak. Above the lips, a fair pointed nose, and above that, eyes. Clamped shut against a million different pains with knotted brows to match. On the high brow was a smear of blood, drying to sickly brown, and thin bangs strewn across it. The rest of his hair was tied in a small ponytail. 

Finally the last piece came clear.  An arm. Thin and pale with a fist clench at the end of the arm. Below the fist, a jagged red line from which flow a precious red. The same red that matted beautiful hair, and smeared fair brows. The same red that was slowly seeping out of a once living, zestful, handsome young man and seeping into his clothing and the floor upon which he laid. 

Yuki looked then on the body as a whole. His breath caught and eyes widened. A vehement sickness awoke in him as the macabre picture in his hands shattered like a plate of ice. The fragments turned to wisps and like smoke dissolved into the air. Stumbling to his feet Yuki grabbed a shirt and threw it on not even bothering to button it. He ran to his front room and got a set of keys and shoved his feet into sandals. 

He opened the door to a burst of chilled night air. He didn't care. He was running. His feet were taking him where he was needed. He knew it was a short run, but each stride took forever. There was nothing that existed that could get him there fast enough. All that was before his eyes was the scene of death. He could barely breath, he could barely move. Yuki was running entirely off adrenaline. Several times he choked as bile threatened to escape his mouth. 

Then suddenly he was there. The key was in the door and the knob was turning. His hands shook as the door creaked open. His breathing went wild: fast and disjointed. He stepped into the dark room. "Hey kid!" he called. His voice shook violently. He took quiet steps toward Shuichi's room. The light was off and the door cracked open slightly. 

"You sleeping?" he asked as he stepped tentatively closer to the door. He pushed it open. Vomit threatened escape once more as a vacuum of tension and terror built around him. The door swung open. He surveyed the room. Dark streaks ran across the walls and over furniture and precious electronics. They led his eyes to a collapsed figure glowing in a patch of moonlight. There was a dark pool around Shuichi. 

"Hey," he said, his entire being was shaking. "Hey!" he shouted looking at the body. He stepped toward it. His knees gave way and he collapsed. He crawled to Shuichi's side. "Shuichi? Answer me you friggin' dolt. I'm talking to you." The boy made no reply. Yuki looked at his outstretched arm, a jagged line tore across his wrist. Clutched in the lax hand above were two sheets of paper. Swallowing hard, he reached for them. They fluttered with his trembles as he pulled them closer to read. 

On the first were the words, "Destiny is unstoppable." It was like the first line of Shuichi's that Yuki had ever dissed. It was from the same lyrics that had started the boy's first obsession with him. Yuki's eyes started to burn. He set the first sheet aside to read the second. 

_Yuki,_

_You are my love. You are my passion. I'm sorry. Words can never express my regret to leave you. Life is a very hard thing to try and accomplish. It has proven too much for me. I don't want the gift of breath anymore. Don't blame yourself. You gave me so much and I am glad that I had no one but you. I would stay here if only I could be with you infinitely. I cannot burden you in that way however, so I leave. You may not follow me. You must live for us both now. Keep my memory in you heart. And you must love again. Understand Yuki? You see why I had to do this? Don't think I will ever stop loving you. _

Moisture slipped from Yuki's eyes and fell to the page. His hand crumpled the paper as a pain worse than torture radiated from his heart. He clenched his teeth and eyes. Hot tears still escaped them. A sob shook him. "God damn you! You're too young! To fucking young! You can't do this to me!" Another sob shook him and he fell next to the body and let his lover's blood seep into his clothes. He let go of the paper and clutched the boy to him. He buried his face in blood and tear damp hair. "I'm… sor…ry," Shuichi sputtered. 

Yuki was startled. "No, no I'm not mad at you! I- just, I. I love you Shuichi. I don't want you to ever leave me! And don't blame yourself. It's just- this is just-"

"One… of… those things?"

"Yeah! It hurts, you know?" Yuki sobbed and clung harder to Shuichi as if that would slow the spirit's separation from the body. He looked into the pain-glazed eyes. They were bright with tears. On Shuichi's mouth was a faint smiled. Yuki kissed that mouth. He kissed that last smile and was kissed back with a last burst of passion. Then, Shuichi Shindou died in his lover's arms locked in a kiss. 

****~****

Yuki's mouth tasted of blood as he set Shuichi on his bed and covered him tenderly. He looked upon the body he knew so well. There was an odd quiet in his mind. There was a lack of emotion there. Leaning down, he kissed the side of Shuichi's neck, the flesh was chilled. He then got into the bed as well, and clung to the youth's body and buried his face under the dead one's chin and into his chest. Somewhere, from inside either his mind or heart or both, Shuichi's voice rose jubilantly. "See, I haven't left. I'm here. You're not alone. Never alone."


End file.
